


The House of Oak

by Miss_M



Category: Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_M/pseuds/Miss_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet coup is taking place in London Below. It has been going on for centuries, for millennia, since long before the Lady Door decided to unify the Underside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House of Oak

**Author's Note:**

> I got to thinking about parts of London Below not mentioned in _Neverwhere_. You may find the Above counterparts to the locations mentioned in this story in Westminster (Royal Oak), Enfield (Oakwood) and Barnet (Burnt Oak). I own nothing.

A quiet coup is taking place in London Below. It has been going on for centuries, for millennia, since long before the Lady Door decided to unify the Underside. 

The House of Oak is the oldest noble house in London Below. Or so its annals would have you believe. There _was_ an oak tree growing underground as long as there has been a Labyrinth and an Arch, as long as the Market has Floated around the Underside. But this is no more proof of greatest longevity than the myth-shrouded origin of any other barony and principality, be it Lord Bethnal’s story of how a fairy turned his ancestor Green to teach him a lesson before the Saxons landed, or the late, unlamented Islington’s claim to being the original rebellious angel, all other claimants being Johnny-come-latelies or frauds. 

This is why the ruler of the House of Oak is officially known as Lady Querx rather than Queen Querx. She has a wreath of oak leaves growing out of her rustling hair, which she calls a crown, and claims the dried leaves shed from the bark which is her skin and dress as she walks have healing properties. Rumor has it she just dislikes touching anyone made of flesh and blood (or ichor, as the case may be), which does nothing to support her claim to being the rightful ruler of the entire Underside. 

She has some experience in dealing with rivals and pretenders. There was once another house which challenged hers for mastery over the Oakwood. It is gone now, its former lands known as Burnt Oak. None go there but the occasional violator of Market truce, the odd eloping couple stuffed full of stories about the treasures that can be found hidden in old forests. 

Queen Querx rarely leaves her domain, for she cannot abide being denied her true title. An uninvited visitor trips over the old roots which grow over the edge of the platform, arrives in a few short steps into a dense world of foliage and shadow. The way in is deceptively simple, and the way out is dubious. Many creatures have lost their way in the woods since time immemorial, never lived to tell a consoling tale of their encounter with nearsighted witches, careless robbers or gullible wolves. Querx has dominion over them all, and is patient. After a city is sacked or an empire burns, the forest moves in, charred buildings feeding green shoots, old trees filling the void left by war and famine. Sooner or later, everyone becomes a part of the Oakwood. 

Islington used assassins, and had no interest in supporting House of Oak’s right to all of London Below. More fool he. This Lady Door – Querx has no need to kill her. She can be patient, while burrowing roots push up the foundations of the Arch, undermine the House Without Doors, water seeping in and pooling under its rooms and cupboards and gardens. Water and roots get in everywhere. It is only a matter of time before the House of Arch and those who serve it fall. 

Queen Querx can wait, and grow.


End file.
